Run
by Moonlight Jellyfish
Summary: Sometimes, circumstances strike without warning. Tai has to get it together.


Author's Notes: It's been a long time. I believe this is my first work in eight years, though I can't be sure of that, since I deleted all my previous entries. I don't know what brought this about, or whether I'll continue to write after this. There will be no additional chapters or sequels to this particular entry. Hope you enjoy it.

Run

Tai closed his phone, paused for a brief moment, and sucked in a deep breath. It was happening.

He glanced around the room to ensure he had all his important belongings, but realized it was merely a reflex, a habitual motion he always made before leaving the house. Tonight was not a night for the usual. The glance, and the moment, subsided, and he exhaled.

With a fluidity that surprised even himself, Tai slid his phone away from him, across the desk. Having a means of communication could inspire him to make calls, say goodbyes, tell people what was about to take place. That phone would provide an infinite number of opportunities to change his mind. Though he wanted to change his mind, he knew it wasn't an option.

Tai's hand fell empty to his side, lacking the comfort of something to hold, but his spirit never wavered. The time had come, and he needed to go. Now.

Careful not to make too much noise, he reached for the knob on his unlatched door and pulled it toward him. Artificial light spilled in from outside – the television was on, but the rest of the living room wore a fragile darkness. He determined his path to the door was clear, but continued to tread quietly, until a gentle stirring drew his attention to the couch.

As she craned her neck slowly over the couch, Kari adjusted her posture to see her brother. Her fingers toyed with a blanket she'd tossed to her side, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the new level of light. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but steady. "Where are you going?"

Given the hour, and the alertness that his sister failed to show, Tai could have easily lied. In fact, no response at all would have likely sufficed, he figured. Although the slightest attempt to fashion a story would have been satisfactory, he felt an urge to be honest that he couldn't dismiss. Perhaps it was a fondness for Kari, forged over years of meaningless interactions, that diverted his course. Dragging his fingertips across the back of the couch, he circled around and knelt in front of her, his eyes focused intently on hers. He said nothing.

After a few seconds, Kari's hand stopped, and an instant later the rest of her followed suit. Tai's gaze was unmistakable. The moment they both dreaded had come, and he had made up his mind.

Her feet slid out from underneath her, but couldn't find solid ground. Her entire body felt like it was floating, as if nothing made sense, and all the tangibles of the universe had abandoned her. But then, she found her brother's eyes, and they drew her back in. Just as quickly as she'd been lost, he found her once more.

Her voice trembled as she asked something she knew she didn't have to ask. "Are you sure?"

She instantly wished she could have those words back. They sounded hollow, unstable, reckless... until Tai answered her, with a devastating resolve. "Yes."

He leaned forward and pulled her close, and she responded with an embrace of equal strength. He'd empowered her, made her become the warrior he needed her to be. Any sign of weakness or selfishness on her part, and his wall would have collapsed. But Kari was tough, and he was thankful beyond measure for that.

As he began to release her, Tai planted a light kiss just above Kari's right eye. "I love you. Tell Mom and Dad the same."

Time had begun to accelerate, and Kari had to let it happen. "I love you too." She felt the finality of her words pushing him away, away from the couch, away from her. Losing Tai forever began crushing her before he even left her sight, but she stayed tough. Until the door closed behind him.

His shoes transformed to lead as he descended the stairs of the apartment building. Each step promised to keep him rooted in place, and each time he overcame that feeling. Despite his unfathomable efforts, he never gained any momentum. The hundredth step was just as unconquerable as the first, yet he gathered his will and kept moving.

The stillness finally enveloped Tai outside his apartment, as he waited to cross the street. He could have gone safely without the proper signal, but his ingrained hesitation was enough to stop him cold. In that moment, he pondered his circumstances, not as a hero or a man, but as a boy. The world became silent as he let his fears and uncertainties crash into his soul. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready, and never would be. He was broken, devoid of courage and compassion, a shell of a boy who couldn't even gather the nerve to turn and run.

But as the white light on the walk sign caught fire, he remembered, and his feet sprang to life.


End file.
